XXII. Support in GOD'S Covenant in the near Views of Death.

'TIS Mine, the Cov'nant of his Grace;
And every Promise mine!
All sprung from everlasting Love,
And seal'd by Blood divine.

On my unworthy favour'd Head
Its Blessings all unite;
Blessings more numerous than the Stars,
More lasting, and more bright.

Death, thou mayst tear this Rag of Flesh,
And sink my fainting Head,
And lay my Ruins in the Grave,
Among my Kindred Dead:

But Death and Hell in vain shall strive
To break that sacred Rest,
Which GOD's expiring Children feel,
While leaning on his Breast.

Th' enlarged Soul thou canst not reach,
Nor rend from Christ away;
Tho' o'er my mould'ring Dust thou boast,
The Triumphs of a Day.

The Night is past, my Morning dawns;
My Cov'nant GOD descends,
And wakes that Dust to join my Soul
In Bliss that never ends.

That Cov'nant the last Accent claims
Of this poor falt'ring Tongue;
And that shall the first Notes employ
Of my celestial Song.